Seeing Stars
by waymorewickedwitch
Summary: based on Discworld characters: a seer sees something terrible and sets out to fix it
1. Chapter 3

Dinner. Dinner sounded fine. Not good, not needed. Just...fine. "Sergeant, could you go and get me some sugar for this, uh, coffee?" "Yes, sugar and some biscuits are what's needed," the Commander nods, "maybe some Wolfbiters no. 5?" "No. No, thank you, Commander. No spirits for me. It could change the seeing, the feelings, you know that."

She sits and waits for the Sergeant to return. The Commander pulls an extremely battered looking cigar from out of a pocket equally battered. Sullen about the Wolfbiters no. 5, he grabs the candle and lights the cigar. They sit in quiet, watching the smoke rise to the grimy ceiling.

When she was younger, she remembers sitting in the Patrician's office with her mother, the Oracle, quietly marveling at the speed the Patricain assimilated the information her mother rattled forth. Always gathering and filing and processing information. The Patrician was the one to "suggest" to the Commander that he employ her as the Oracle. The Patrician actually ordered the Commander, but had made it sound like a suggestion. He implied, he maneuvered, he coerced. He got things done. Either by the front door or through the cracks. That's why he was still the Patrician. And that's why she was sitting here, drinking, uh, coffee, with the Commander of the Watch.

"Commander," speaking softly, "Commander, I just thinking of the Patrician." "Now why would you want to do that," smirks the Commander, "You're going to spoil my dinner." "Commander, it's just that he should be told about the Wizards, not just the Captain." Did she just sigh? No, she doesn't think so. "I mean, he would be able to suggest a course of action, make suggestions, he has ways and means. Um, not that you don't, Commander," she quickly adds. "I know you will, ah, uh, handle. Uh, be able to handle, um, anything. I'm making a mess of this. I'm never sure of what to say, or how to say it. My Mother was so sure." She's trembling now, trying to hold back tears. The Commander pats her hand, looking all the more uncomfortable. She knows he feels the same way. That was the worst part. She KNOWS.

"Here's the sugar," yells the Sergeant, coming up the stairs in a, well, run. In a panting, huffing, puffing, battle-engine sort of way. "Too late, it's cold. Make some fresh Sergeant. Use a new sock", chuckles the Commander, "and send another runner afer the Captain in the other direction, maybe they'll meet him up somewhere on patrol." Watching the Sergeant go in reverse was like watching two hippos fight in a wet sack. You didn't think it could happen.

She felt...everything, yet, the tears stayed and the trembling stopped. But, the Commander had started to pace. Not a good sign. No, not at all. 


	2. Chapter 4

Pacing. Back and forth. Forth and back. Pacing. Pacing.

The Commander stops, looks at the floor, returns to pacing. 

"Commander," she says, "You're going to ruin your boots and socks and the floor. Please sit or I'll scream."

"I didn't realize I was..." as he sits. Fumbling with his cigar, he coughs slightly. "You shouldn't smoke Commander," she whispers. "So my wife says and the Captain and the Sergeant and hell, me too." "I'm sorry Commander. I shouldn't remark on personal things. My mother never did. Just to the point, the feeling, the seeing, then gone. I need to be more disciplined." "Never mind 'Oracle'. No harm done. This will be over soon and you can go home", says the Commander as he continues to smoke.

Now she feels silly. Why did she make comments like that. She knows that Commander misses the frankness and direct way her mother always talked to him, the way she interpreted the feelings. And soon the Captain would be here. She trembles and her palms begin to sweat. She could feel goose-bumps running up down her back. "No, Commander. I can't go home even after the seeing. I need to make sure this is finished, over, done. Too many people could be hurt, dead, if I don't."

At the word, dead, the Commander stands. The look on his face tells her everything. He didn't realize, didn't understand until then the severity of this feeling. "The Wizards have really mucked things up. I'd like to hang them all upside down in the Ankh." The Commander returns to pacing. This time she says nothing and lets him pace.

The Sergeant walks into the room. If you could call it that, lumbering, maybe. He carries a tray with steaming cofee and funny looking biscuits. He looks at the Commander and back at her. He sets the tray down and clears aways the earlier mess. Pouring coffee, he hands her a cup. She notices he's sweating. He gives her a plate with a biscuit and something that looks like dried fruit. His hands are quivering. She pats his hand. He smiles half-heartedly and gives the Commander coffee.

The room is quiet, so is the Watchhouse. She can feel them waiting for something to happen. It's not tense, just quiet.

"Commander, may I walk a little? Just around the Yard. I'm feeling, well, not feeling really, just, I, um, need to walk a bit.  
You understand?" "Sergeant, will you accompany the Oracle outside to strech her legs?" the Commander says as he takes her hand and edges the Sergeant to the door in one smooth motion. He understands completely. She tries to breathe. 


	3. Chapter 1

It started with that funny feeling she always got when the wind blew in from the east, chilled and anxious. She knew something woud happen and soon. She just didn't know what. Not yet. 

The day had begun, cold and gray, an average morning in the Shades. She awoke with the chill, dressed, knowing. She moved in her slow fashion down stairs not quite awake but aware.

Her brother had returned from the night shift with little to say. "Hungry", he grunted as she prepared his dinner. He would eat then read yesterday's paper while smoking. She loathed his choice of tobacco and his way of rolling it. She put up with his smoking only so she would not have to hear his comments about her cooking. If she complained, he complained. It was an easy compromise for both. Afterwards, he'd wash up and go to bed. She'd then have to be the mouse, tiptoeing from room to room, cleaning and tidying up before she would leave for the day.

She walked in that chill air, fog slowly slipping around corners, every morning that she could remember. The anxiety was building in her. She felt watched, eyes out every window and faces in every doorway. She hated this feeling. She wished for it to go away, not ever to return. It never did.

Being an Oracle only bothered her when she actually had to be the Oracle.

It had been easy for her mother. Her mother had never complained, whined or worried. Mother always did the right thing, said the right thing. Mother had died KNOWING. She had wondered whether she would die that way.

She was Oracle to the Commander of the Watch. It was a new position, along with un-dead, trolls, dwarves and such in the Watch. Still, she felt weird. "Honest work", her brother grunted when she told him. He always grunted and never more than a few syllables. "He must be part troll", she mumbled to herself.

Almost to the Watch house, the feeling trebled. "No,no,no". She would not give in yet. Not until she saw his face, looked into his eyes, could she give in to the "feeling" as the Commander put it. 

The Commander was down to earth, one of the people. But not to earthy. Common sense ruled this Commander. "Everything in it's place and place for everything" was his motto. Although sometimes their place was in the dungeon or the pillory and once and only once, the pike.

Rounding the corner, she saw her destination, The Watch House. It used to be a family home, just newly converted for the Night Watch. Warmth and light emanated from windows and open door. The door was always open, even in the worst weather. She liked that. It made her feel normal. If only that normal feeling would remain.

She went to the front desk where that heavy set Sergeant sat. He was always there, drinking coffee, picking his teeth with a pencil, always there. She nodded, he nodded. Up the stairs and to the right was the Commander's office. Clean but not shining. Warm but not stifling. The Commander looked like his office. 

"He is sitting at his desk waiting", she thought. "I'll go in and say it straight away and then leave, no dallying". She knocks and enters, never waiting for an answer. The Commander sits at his desk reading reports, not looking up. "Well do you have the 'feeling'?", he comments. She has suddenly been struck with a most unwelcome knowledge. "Death", she whispers. "Death has come and will not leave your side". But, this is not the feeling she woke with. This is not what she had wanted to say. She swoons. The Commander jumps from behind his desk, shoving his chair over, reaching her just as she hits the hard wood floor. "You've never done that before", he says as he cradles her head. She does not hear him, the feeling is to strong and her defenses are not like her mother's. She cannot handle this, she wants to scream. The Commander shouts for a Watchman. She feels her body being carried to a bed, wet cloths to her forehead. She feels her mouth moving but no words, no sound comes out. "No", she thinks, "no, I will conquer this. I will speak as Oracle to the Commander. I will make this known, this feeling will be known". 


	4. Chapter 2

It's dark. No sounds from the street. There should be sounds coming in off the street. People and animals and carts and noise. The dark is pressing in and she is unable to move. The Commander has said something. The Sergeant has answered and left. Another Watchman enters and leaves. And another. And another. Still, no sound from the street. She tries to sit up but something or someone is holding her down. She tries to speak. Newborn cat sounds issue from between her lips. She's mewing. She says "I'm mewing, I'm really mewing", but nothing comes out.

The Commander dabs her forehead and sips coffee. "Coffee", she burbles. "Now I'm burbling". "Right, I got that one", as the Commander brings the cup to her lips and she sips...something. "Are you sure I said coffee? This doesn't feel like coffee". "It's the best I have on any given day", smiles the Commander. "Just be glad today was a wash day, the sock they filter this thru wasn't starched though, it's better when they use starch". 

"Are you feeling anything, better, worse, nothing perhaps?" She sits, stretches and put a hand to the back of her head. She remembers. "Sugar, needs sugar. I remember." "That bad, huh"  
"Commander!" she cries, "I didn't mean about Death." "I know. I know Death is always my unseen companion. He really should make some other friends. Not that I'm bored with his company, but, really to lavish such attention on just me, well, it's undeserved." "Please Commander." She touches his arm. "The Wizards have brought it over from another plane and they can't control it. It will devastate the city, the people, the, well, the everything." "Oh, the Wizards, is it? We can handle anything those idiots can magic up." 

"Not his time."

The Commander can see the fear in her face, can hear it in her voice, can feel it on the back of his neck. She is pale with it. The Sergeant in the door is pale with it. The Watchmen behind him are pale with it. "We need mor daytime drills," the Commander whispers under his breath. "Don't you worry, I'll send my best man, along with a couple of trolls, and we'll get this sorted out. Hopefull with maximum bruising and minimal overtime. I've waited a long time to throttle some Wizards, it will do them good. Me, too, come to think of it."

"Please don't make light of this, Commander. I'm speaking as Oracle. I have seen. I have felt this. I don't want to be right about Death. I want to be the Oracle that saves the city, not destroys its." She knows he isn't being glib. She knows it's his way.

The Commander tell the Sergeant in the doorway to get the Captain. She trembles. The Captain is beautiful. And brave, intelligent, well humored and naive. Mostly beautiful. She has never seen anyone, anything, any place that could be described that way until the Captain. She knows that the Commander will want her to explain all the details, feelings, to the Captain, she knows she can't. She'll stutter and mumble. She'll look down at her feet, play with her fingers. She can't recall her mother ever doing that.

Mother always spoke straight and clear. No emotions even with the feelings. Not her. Emotion and feelings were one and the same with her. 

"Commander", she sputters. "Can I have a pencil, paper? I wish to write..." "No" he says. "No, you must share your feelings. You're the Oracle." "Can't I share with you and you tell the Captain?" "Did you hit your head harder than I thought? You know it doesn't work that way. You share with the seeker and that's going to be the Captain." 

She wants to swear. Loudly. She doesn't.

The Sergeant rushes in and shouts that the Captain is on patrol and he's sent a runner to bring him back to the Watchouse. She relaxes, she knows the Captain's patrols are more like hardy strolls around the whole of the city. She has time to compose herself. Sounds return from the street. 

"Please send a note to my brother, I'm going to be here for dinner." 


End file.
